


Unquestionable

by ExecutiveEspressoDepresso



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hannibal is Oblivious, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, No beta we perish like Antony dimmond, One Shot, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will is angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExecutiveEspressoDepresso/pseuds/ExecutiveEspressoDepresso
Summary: While bandaging their injuries after the fall, Hannibal makes an accusation that Will cannot abide by
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 111





	Unquestionable

**Author's Note:**

> I just liked that one scene in Doctor who where Rory says he loves Amy more and she gets all pissed. That’s my only excuse for this, sorry. I shouldn’t be mentioning Doctor who, Sherlock or supernatural in the good year of 2021

The time after the fall was painful. The fall had felt eternal and yet a split second before they were consumed by the water below. Darkness and bobbing in and out of consciousness in the inky black of the sea. Blood mixing with blood as Hannibal and Will laid in the sand, barely alive.

But they were alive. And it would be preferable if they could keep it that way, after all it took to get them here.

Which was why Will and the good doctor Lecter were sitting in a dark boathouse, partial nudity for better access to assess the individual damage.

The boat house wasn’t the coziest of medical clinics, but they would need to patch each other up as much as possible before Hannibal could take Will to one of the many hidden houses he undoubtedly owned, though they had yet to speak of a specific location. 

They hadn’t spoken much at all, really, exhausted enough to barely form coherent thought. 

Thin fingers grasping at the bloody remains of the shirt in his hands, Will stared unseeingly at the space next to Hannibal. The doctor was opening a first aid kit and pulling out all the bandages and antiseptic he could find. It didn’t look nearly enough for the both of them.

Taking short breaths to try and manage the pain of his undoubtedly bruised or broken ribs, Will spoke quietly into the dim light under the flickering bare bulb of the rickety shack as he set the unsalvageable garment behind him. “You first,” he croaked, barely audible. “Your gunshot wound.” It was the first words he’d spoken since he admitted the beauty of the red dragon's death. The last words Hannibal had said were a frantic “Will, Will can you hear me?” as Will lay unconscious on the beach. Hannibal had thought Will was dead, and Will could see the tears mingling with the saltwater of the sea when his eyes fluttered open to the moonlight. The doctor had choked a sob and brushed Will’s hair out of his face before analyzing the man’s wounds. 

He’d been so careful, even though he was worse off than Will.

Will didn’t want to think about that too much.

Hannibal had taken the brunt of the fall, his leg clearly broken, shoulder dislocated, back bloody and bruised. He hadn’t let Will help him set his leg in a splint or his shoulder back in place, insisting he needed to save his strength. Will would have been furious if he could have found the energy to feel so.

“No,” Hannibal responded quietly, voice as hoarse as Will’s. 

Will raised a brow, watching as Hannibal began to thread string through a needle. “What do you mean no?,” Will asked, a bit louder as he shifted his free arm back, grunting in pain. “It could get infected. Here, let me.”

Hannibal held out his arm to stop Will from getting closer. “I’m going to sew up your face, Will. Then I’ll assess your ribs,” the doctor straightened up and even in the dim light, without his shirt Will could see the round hole on Hannibal’s abdomen, blood still trickling out.

“Hannibal stop being stubborn and let me help,” Will said in somewhat of a growl, attempting to shift closer to Hannibal but once again being stopped by a hand on his knee. “You’re a doctor, tell me how to-“

“Will,” Hannibal interrupted curtly. He raised maroon eyes to trace Will’s face. “The undeniable foundation of our relationship is that I love you more than you love me.”

Will blinked, shocked. His flicker of confusion quickly turned to a wave of anger and his eyes narrowed as Hannibal continued to speak. 

“I’m going to fix you first. That way if I die before we can assess my wounds, at least I’ll be assured you will continue on with the excuse that I pulled you off the cliff.” The serial killer said it all matter of factly and slowly, as if he was explaining the process to a child. 

“How can you say that?,” Will whispered, voice quivering with rage instead of exhaustion this time. 

Hannibal didn’t seem to get the hint, tying a knot in the thread of the needle. “I spent three years in a glass box, Will. Waiting for you to come to terms with your instincts and emotions.” The doctor used his teeth to break the string, lifting his head up to gaze at Will once more. “You may say it’s not true that I care for you more than you care for me. But since you are aware that I love you more, come closer so that I can begin-“

The sharp slap with enough force to make Hannibal’s head turn rang through the old residence of wood and mold, echoing in the following silence.

Will’s chest heaved and the pain it brought his ribs was nothing compared to the boiling rage he felt welling inside him. His hand was still raised as his other clutched at his burning chest. “Don’t you dare,” Will breathed out, eyes burning a second hole into Hannibal with the force of his glare. “Don’t you dare say that to me.” His offending hand dropped behind to support him in the fresh wave of agony sweeping over his face in his subconscious biting of the ruined flesh with his wrath. “Don’t you ever dare.”

How dare he. After everything Will had gone through, everything Hannibal had put him through. Everything Will had put himself through for Hannibal’s sake? He had the gall to sit there and tell Will he cared less then him?

Hannibal stretched his jaw with his eyes averted before turning back to Will, eyebrows furrowed as he shifted to lean forward. He was closer to Will now, only about a foot of distance between their faces and still clothed legs brushing against each other.

The thought of moving away from Hannibal never crossed his mind, despite the unseemly circumstances. Will still wanted to be close to Hannibal, as close as they had been before Will pulled them into the ocean. He wanted Hannibal, in every way Hannibal wanted Will.

And Hannibal had the audacity to say otherwise? For someone who took it upon himself to dispose of the rude, his impertinence was staggering.

“Will,” Hannibal murmured slowly, reaching out a hand to touch Will’s uninjured cheek. Despite his fury, Will allowed himself to lean into the touch of Hannibal’s calloused hands, though his glare did not diminish. “You admitted it yourself,” Hannibal quietly said, thumb running over Will’s cheekbone. “You rejected me so that I would turn myself in. You let me go. That hardly seems like an undying love declaration, does it?”

While Hannibal’s words were an attempt placate him, Will noticed Hannibal was subtly trying to turn the younger man’s face to allow the doctor to begin his stitching, making the anger Will felt flare slightly. He grabbed Hannibal’s hand, steeling any further movement as he stared into Hannibal’s eyes, searching with his glare. He was still gentle in his grip, he didn’t want to hurt the man too much, no matter how angry Will was at Hannibal’s declaration. He loved the man too much to hurt him when he didn’t deserve it.

Although his presumptions and blindness to Will’s devotion were a considerable slight, he pondered.

“You were going to leave,” Will rasped, all his boiling rage evident in his voice, no matter how quiet the words themselves were

A glimmer of confusion shown across Hannibal’s impassive face. Truly how was this man so smart and yet so dense?

“You wanted to leave,” he repeated, pulling Hannibal’s hand away from the younger man’s face. Will’s fingers still held on to Hannibal’s as he lowered their joined hands to his knee.

Feeling he would only grow angrier if he continued to look at the man, Will dropped his gaze to Hannibal’s gunshot wound, breathing through his nose as his eyes shut slowly. “You might have kept running. Running away again, away from me, let me catch you and then disappear again.”

Hannibal’s tendons flexed against Will’s grip, curling his fingers to reverently brush against the back of Will’s hand. He craved the touch just as much as Will it would seem. Had he not inititiated as much contact before because he felt Will didn’t desire him just as much? “I wanted you to-“

“You said you wanted that,” Will said, bitterness seeping into his tone, shifting to tightly hold Hannibal’s hand as he refused to meet Hannibal’s eyes. Really, you would think Hannibal knew how difficult it was to discern the truth from the ex psychiatrist. It had been a significant part of his manipulation after all. “But what if you kept running when you decided to test me again. What if you just kept disappearing, Hannibal?”

Hannibal returned Will’s tight clasp on him, ducking down and facing up to try and make Will look at him. “Will I would never-“

“You don’t know that, Hannibal,” Will spat, head snapping up and eyes still glaring. “You don’t know what you would’ve done. You weren’t done testing me. You know you weren’t.” 

The Adam’s apple of Hannibal’s throat bobbed with his harsh swallow, staring up at Will in silence. 

Will knew he was right, knew with the way Hannibal’s eyes clouded with regret and even warm shame. An emotion he had never seen grace the man’s stone cut features. But he kept Will’s line of sight, watching Will intently as the other man formed his next words.

“I didn’t let you go, Hannibal,” Will said softly, anger slightly diminished, but still seething. “I gave you up.”

Hannibal swallowed again, and Will noticed the smallest wince of pain as the bullet undoubtedly shifted inside him. “Will I don’t-,“ he began, but Will wasn’t finished.

“So don’t you dare,” Will’s grasp tightened until his knuckles were white, grounding them both together, in this moment where nothing else mattered but the two men. “Don’t you dare talk to me about waiting inside a glass box because that is nothing, Hannibal, nothing!” Will didn’t regret raising his voice despite the flash of aching it brought the slit in his face. His tone was fierce and scalding, leaving no room for Hannibal to wonder how serious Will was. “Compared to giving you up.” The last words were barely a whisper as his rage subsided with his admission. 

Silence echoed in the shabby room with the new truth between the very injured men. 

Will was tired, down to his very soul. Now that the white hot rage was gone, only his hurt that Hannibal thought he didn’t mean everything to Will remained. He’d left his wife, his child, his whole life for Hannibal. Will quite literally risked their lives to see if they were meant to be together, and it still wasn’t enough? 

Will’s posture slackened with his head bowed in exhaustion. Half closed cloudy eyes still staring at their joined, bloodstained hands even though the force of his hold slackened. He didn’t attempt to break the still ringing silence. If Hannibal had something to say, he would let Will know.

The silence trickled on, the beating of both their hearts audible, and Will found himself comforted. He could almost forget that there was a chance neither of them would survive the night. 

Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.

But Will wanted to live with him. Now that he knew he couldn’t let Hannibal go, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t want to die, not now. Not when they finally had the opportunity to live the way they’d been meant to. Together.

The movement of Hannibal brought Will back to reality. The wounded man carefully set the needle to his side and picked up the first aid box. He didn’t take his other hand from Will’s

“There should be a pair of tweezers in here,” Hannibal said quietly, gently pressing the white plastic container into the hand on Will’s chest until the man’s hand unfurled to take it. “It won’t be pleasant and will undoubtedly cause me excruciating pain, but it is necessary if we are to dress the wound to prevent infection.”

Will lifted his head to look at Hannibal, who was gazing back at him openly and trusting despite the medical tone he’d taken in giving Will the facts. Trusting.

His hand squeezed Hannibal’s, letting his grip fall to open the white plastic box. “Let’s get this done quickly, Doctor,” Will grunted in pain. His eyes turned back to Hannibal’s with the smallest smile and his eyes glimmering with mirth. “I don’t want my face to be beyond repair when you get to fixing it.”

Hannibal returned the smile with one of his own, shifting closer to Will and reclining back on his hands to bare the hole to the man next to him. “You’ll always look lovely no matter how much you scar, my dear Will,” Hannibal murmured, studying Will’s face with a soft, fond look. Will liked seeing the man this open to expressision. They had nothing to hide from each other, not anymore.

Will chuckled, shaking his head and hissing in pain at the strain. “Here,” the blue eyed man grabbed a bottle of whiskey he’d unearthed when they first took refuge. Good old boat dockers, they always had alcohol on hand. “Drink up,” Will ordered, offering it to Hannibal.

Hannibal’s nose wrinkled but he sighed, wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle, their fingers touching once again. “Do work quickly, dear Will. I believe this might be worse than the antiseptic.” He brought the bottle to his lips and took a quick swig, mouth scrunching in disgust at the bitter taste undoubtedly so far below his regular expectations for alcohol.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Doctor,” Will chided in amusement as he pulled out the pair of tweezers and reached for one of the containers of antiseptic Hannibal had set aside. The man looked up at his companion with another pleased smile, opening the bottle of wound disinfectant. Hannibal regarded Will with undeniable devotion expressed in the softness of his eyes and the curl of his lips over sharp canines.

Will felt himself grow warm again. Love filled his chest and spread to the bottoms of his bloodied feet. Commitment that would here on out be unquestionably acknowledged to the both of them. It’s what they both deserved.

“Let’s get you fixed up.”


End file.
